Arguments
by MarcoLover16
Summary: Darco: Lately, they argued about EVERYTHING. Before he left, the last thing Dylan wanted was to fight.


A/N: This is mainly for Ximena (a.k.a. darcolover). Enjoy and please review!

"Stop being immature," Marco chastised, grabbing Dylan's hand so that he would stop tapping the table.

"I'm not being immature," he sighed. "I want to go home," he whined softly.

"Dylan, I need five minutes," he pleaded, hoping Dylan would simply stay quiet for just five more minutes. Dylan nodded his head, agreeing, and telling his boyfriend that he'd be touring the aisles until Marco was done.

Dylan understood that Marco had a lot of work to finish, considering he did as well (though he wasn't doing it), and that he should try to be respectful. After all, he was the one who begged to come to the library with him, so he should appreciate that Marco took him, knowing he'd be a pain.

Ever since Dylan had gotten the news about Switzerland, their relationship was based on arguing. No, they never argued about Switzerland, of course, and Marco said he knew it was something Dylan had to do, so he didn't protest after their first fight about it. They just fought about everything else.

Sometimes, while Marco was cooking, he'd ask Dylan to grab him an ingredient, and it would be the wrong one (almost always) and a huge argument would break out. It was the silliest of things that would set them off, and that's why Dylan knew it was about him leaving. Marco didn't want him to go.

Quite frankly, Dylan didn't want to go either, and he wouldn't have, but Marco told him he had to for his 'dream'. Though, he was getting sick and tired of the constant fights, which were getting worse everyday since he had two more days until he was taking off to the new country. That's why he wanted to get home so fast. He wanted two minutes to spend with Marco where there wasn't a stupid argument.

Dylan sighed. "Who reads this stuff, anyway?" he asked the book, angry when it didn't answer him. He threw it down, picking up the next one. "Who Stole My Cheese? What kind of a book is that?"

"Frustrated?" asked Marco, leaning against the bookshelf. Dylan nodded, turning around with a forced smile.

"I'm done," he said, taking Dylan's hand, not in the mood to force him to get his own work done. "Let's go."

Marco and Dylan walked into the apartment together in silence, neither one wanted to say anything. As long as Marco wasn't yelling, Dylan would be okay.

"Marco," said Dylan, startling him as he went to put their coats in the bedroom.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Sit with me," he suggested. Marco looked reluctant, but obliged. He sat down close to him, but was pulled in even closer.

"Dylan," he laughed as he put his arm around him, "I have to make…dinner and everything," he tried to get away.

"Please, just sit here with me for a minute?" Dylan practically begged. Marco fell back against him, sighing in defeat.

"Fine," he threw his hands in the air. The two sat in another comfortable silence for a moment or two. In that one little moment, Dylan was happy.

"Dylan." Silence ruined.

"Yes?" he asked, trying not to appear irritated. Though, he had apparently failed.

"Well, I'm sorry if I'm inconveniencing you, Dylan, but I'd like to get up now," he sounded annoyed. **Way to screw up the only moment you had, Dylan**

Dylan allowed him to get up from his position on the couch. Why was everything so difficult lately? They usually got along so well. Didn't Marco see that his arguing was making his departure worse for both of them? Hadn't Marco been the one who said, "We'd better make the most of it?" Was this what he had in mind?

Marco walked into the kitchen, not speaking a word, but from his actions, (slamming cooking items down onto the counter) Dylan thought it would be best not to bother him. He got up cautiously from the couch, planning on walking to the bedroom without having to cross Marco's path.

"You're just going to walk away?" Marco asked. What did Marco want from him? He practically sends him away with the vibes he was sending out, and then refuses to let him leave?

Dylan sighed, afraid to let the ghost of a smile arrive on his lips. "I guess not."

"Well, you were going to," Marco said angrily, "so go ahead."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "I have permission?" he asked. When Marco glared in his direction, he assumed that meant he was supposed to leave…or maybe stay? What did it mean?!

"I'm just going to the bedroom," said Dylan, deciding that would be the best way to do it. He waited for Marco to say anything in protest, and when he didn't, he continued his walk down the hallway.

"Hey, Dylan," said Ellie, as she met him in the hallway. He nodded his head as a sign of greeting and closed the door behind him. Ellie, deciding she didn't want to be around for another fight, went into the kitchen to excuse herself.

"Marco, I'm just going to go out…alright?" she said, realizing she hadn't even made plans for herself.

Marco simply nodded, distracted with what he was doing. She patted him on the shoulder, quickly hugged him from behind, and walked out the door.

Marco set everything aside for a moment to go check on Dylan. He'd been in the bedroom for almost an hour and a half. Marco just wished he'd come out to bother the hell out of him.

"Dylan," he said, coming into the room. Dylan looked up from the television at the sound of his name being called. "Dylan, we're…we'll eat soon," he finished, turning to walk out the door again.

"Wait!" Dylan said, jumping up from the bed, and touching Marco's shoulder.

Marco still faced the door, unable to turn around. "What?" he asked.

"Can you stay in here for a while?" asked Dylan.

"Damnit," Marco finally turned around, "you could have stayed in the other room with me!"

"You didn't want me to!" Dylan yelled back, so tired of it.

"I never said I didn't want you to! You just obviously assumed I didn't want you to!"

"Well, you made it pretty clear," said Dylan, following Marco as he decided to walk back to the kitchen, despite Dylan's wishes, "that you didn't _want _me in there."

Marco gripped the sides of the counter, trying to keep himself from screaming louder than they already were, and from jumping out the nearest window. His temper was so far past the state of being lost.

"Well, if you know I don't want you around me, why did you follow me in here?" Marco asked, pretty sure he had no sanity left.

Dylan seemed to think he'd gone crazy as well. He blinked, stepped back, and shook his head. "You—you told me…. for god's sake, Marco, what the hell do you want from me? Lately, everything I do it wrong!"

Marco refused to answer, busying himself again with finishing up his cooking. "Don't ignore me, Marco. You started it!"

"I started it?" Marco was apparently done ignoring him, considering he'd been accused of such an appalling thing.

"Yes, you did. You always do!" Dylan yelled, pounding his fit onto the counter.

"You said I obviously don't want to be around you, but it's you who doesn't want to be around me, so just go back to the bedroom, if you please, and ignore me the whole damn night."

"You know what…whatever, Marco," he had no more patience to deal with pleasing him.

The bedroom door slammed, causing Marco to wince. He knew he'd been wrong in the argument, but couldn't seem to stop yelling. He sighed. Once again, breathing deeply, he made his way back to the bedroom, creaking it open.

Dylan saw him come in; in fact, he'd been expecting it, but made no motions or eye contact to even show that he was aware. Marco sat down next to him on the bed, resting his head in his hands in distress.

Dylan sighed again. He just couldn't ignore him. "Marco," he said, putting his hand on his shoulder. Marco looked up, but didn't smile.

Marco simply pulled away from him, pointing to the other side of the room. "Your shirt is on the floor."

"Are we going to fight about that now?" he asked, knowing he spoke harshly, putting his hand on his forehead tiredly.

Marco shook his head quickly, beginning to cry. Dylan was surprised. Never in any of their fights had Marco resorted to tears. It was odd that the one thing that upset him the most was the shirt on the floor.

"Marco," said Dylan, pulling him into his arms easily, "don't cry," he begged.

The request just made Marco cry more. Dylan rubbed his back soothingly. "Relax, baby," he said softly.

If anything, Dylan's caring nature made Marco more upset than he was. "I don't want you to leave!" he said, after his crying ceased long enough for him to get a word out.

Dylan closed his eyes tightly. He didn't want to leave either. Marco knew that. "It'll be okay, Marco."

"No, it won't," he argued, taking his head off of Dylan's shoulder, while rubbing insanely at his eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming. "You're going to go away and realize that you want more than this, and that you can get it now."

"Don't be silly," said Dylan, glad that they didn't have to yell anymore, and that Marco was actually saying something that made some sense. "Is that what you've been worried about all these weeks? I'm going to like it better there?"

"Dylan," Marco tried to make Dylan see reason, "you can have so much better than me, and I just--"

"Marco, you're the best thing I could ever ask for," he smiled, pushing his hair behind his ear, continuing to rub Marco's back even though he'd mostly stopped crying.

"I guess, but…" Marco started, still insecure.

"But nothing," said Dylan, ending his thought. "I have tomorrow, and that's it, Marco. The day after, I'm gone. I'd like us to spend some time together that doesn't include screaming or, in this case, crying."

"I don't want to fight, either," Marco admitted, moving forward so that he could lay his head in Dylan's lap.

"Then, why have we been?" Dylan asked. "Just because you don't want me to leave?"

"That," said Marco, "and the fact that it'll be easier for you to leave if we hate each other."

"Oh, Marco…" said Dylan, laughing. "First of all, you know I could never hate you. Second of all, it's not going to be easy…no matter what I feel toward you."

"You won't find something better?" Marco asked, feeling slightly pathetic.

"There _is _nothing better," Dylan answered. "And if there was something 'better', I wouldn't want it, baby. I love you."

"I love you too," said Marco. "Forget about dinner. Let's just lay here for a while."

A/N: So, what did you all think? Please review.


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